Barreled over myself, in an attempt to stay warm, I am
Complimented on my glasses by a young woman and
I ask myself:
Who is Robert Kunzig?
Who has had too much to drink tonight?
We are exactly what happens by accident, you know. I can’t
Catch you, or let you know anything about anything at all.
One day we will abandon our children to write poetry.
They will have more character without a mother.
Adolescence is only sociology, and childhood is overrated.
You wouldn’t have been a good role model, anyway.
You are not trying to look stylish, you think. You are
Just trying to see.
Who’s writing this garbage anyway? Whose idea was it
To have a shift in perspective in the middle of a stanza?
I can’t believe I’m responsible for this. He’s a very sad young man.
It’s unhealthy to live the way he does. I’m alone in all of this, I say
In the dark.
It’s sad, you think.